Teresa's chicken was a perfect golden brown, and much appreciation was aimed towards Charlie's biscuits. All three of the

guests at the supper table ate heartily.

Burl, Charlie was relieved to see, seemed to be fine. He walked with his at times-customary limp, but his eyes were

clear, and he kept up with the table conversation. He told a story about a dress ball in the old country. Of the gentlemen dressed in top hats

and tails, and the ladies in satin and lace, with jewels around their necks.

"And the music we had-" Burl began, his voice nearly reverent.

His story delivery was near perfection. Charlie could tell that everyone was enjoying the story telling, complete with all the added embellishments.

Charlie listened, thinking that Burl seemed just fine tonight. His mind seemed fine. He didn't appear confused. He could talk about

the past in vivid detail, but he was also able to recognize those around the table. Though he stuck with the nicknames as opposed to

real names for some. 'Little gal' for Charlie; 'Gun-man' for Johnny; plain 'sheriff' for Val; 'sister' for Teresa. He addressed Murdoch and Scott by their

given names, and seemed to have no difficulty in knowing just where he was having supper.

When it was time to move to the library to visit, Mr. Beets appeared in the kitchen, and helped to do the dishes. Though Teresa told he

it wasn't necessary, he cheerfully took a drying towel and began wiping the washed dishes.

When they were finishing, and Teresa began to place cake plates on a large tray to carry, she paused to

say, "I'll take this in. Charlie, can you bring the coffee and some cups?"

"Okay," Charlie said, going to pull down another large platter.

"How are things, Charlotte?" Mr. Beets asked. "Going well?"

"Things are going well," Charlie said.

"Good. I'm pleased to hear it."

Charlie told him about the school being closed for a bit, as she placed cups and saucers on the tray.

Mr. Beets leaned against the counter, listening.

"I like your old friend, Burl," Mr. Beets said.

Charlie turned from lifting the coffee pot to give Beets a full-on smile. "Do you? Really?"

"I certainly do."

Charlie wondered if Mr. Beets would know anything about the asylums, but Teresa was bustling back into

the kitchen.

"Are you coming with the coffee?" she asked, and so Charlie didn't have the opportunity to ask Beets.

When Val and Burl had eaten their cake and visited for another hour, he announced it was time they were

heading back to town. Charlie, who'd been curled up, cross-legged on the floor, listening to more stories, was

sorry that the evening was over.

At the door, the little man bowed as if he was at one of those past parties, and took Teresa's hand in his.

"You and the little gal did a fine job on that meal, sister. I don't know when I've ever had better."

Teresa was obviously touched. "Thank you, Burl," she said, warmly. "I hope you'll come again."

"If I've the privilege of being asked, then I'll come again," Burl said, with all the grace of a monarch born.

"We'll ask again," Teresa said.

"Thank ya, little gal," he said to Charlie. He shook Murdoch's hand, and Scott's, and even Mr. Beets.

As he hustled Burl out the door, Val said quietly that Burl would be sleeping at the jail again, at least for the

foreseeable future.

"That's probably for the best," Murdoch said.

Charlie felt the good feelings of the evening draining away. Even though Val was kind enough to Burl, it just

didn't seem right that Burl had to live in the jail cell. It just didn't.

Teresa went back to the library, to begin clearing up the dessert plates, and cups, and told Charlie to come along

and help. Charlie went, but she moved slowly, and Teresa, tired from the day and evening, said, crossly, "Charlie, hurry up,

will you, please? I want to go upstairs to bed."

"Then go," Charlie replied, just as crossly. "Nobody's stopping you."

"I'll be glad to help tidy up," Mr. Beets said, and both girls turned, startled, to see the banker standing there. They hadn't heard

him walking in.

"Sorry you heard us fussing, Mr. Beets," Teresa said. Charlie could tell she was embarrassed. She, herself, felt a bit

embarrassed, too.

"It's been a long day and evening for you both," Beets said, giving excuse. "Besides, it reminds me of my days as a boy at home, with

my sisters."

Teresa smiled. "I'd like to hear some of those boyhood stories of yours, Mr. Beets."

"I'd be glad to share some," he laughed. "Not tonight, but perhaps another time."

L

Johnny was getting in from his evening out, and apologized for missing supper, as the family gathered in the kitchen, everyone

helping to carry dishes.

"You definitely missed out," Scott was saying to Johnny.

Johnny went to the counters, lifting the lid off the cake plate. "No cake left?" he lamented.

"Nope. Not a crumb," Scott said.

"And no biscuits left, either," Teresa told him.

"That will teach you to be gone when Teresa and Charlie are cooking up a big dinner," Murdoch said, with a laugh.

"I reckon it will, at that," Johnny said.

"There's probably a piece of two of chicken left," Teresa told Johnny. "If you're interested."

"I'm interested," Johnny said, and Teresa went to take a piece of the chicken that was covered with a cloth on the counter.

"Didn't you have a meal when you were out tonight?" Murdoch asked him.

"No. It wasn't that sort of an evening," Johnny said.

Charlie thought that was an odd sort of a remark.

"I believe I'll head up to bed," Mr. Beets said.

The family all said their goodnights to Beets, as he left the kitchen.

"So, it was a good evenin', then?" Johnny asked, from where he sat at the kitchen table, eating his piece of chicken. "The old

codger behaved himself?"

"He was fine," Teresa said. "He certainly ate well."

"So he's back with Val again at the jail, huh?" Johnny asked.

"That's right," Murdoch said.

"That's best," Johnny said, and Murdoch nodded.

They all, all four of them, seemed to Charlie as though they were in agreement on that. That staying in the jail was the best

place for Burl to live.

Charlie stopped what she was doing, which was stacking the cake plates. She turned so swiftly that she jarred Teresa's

arm, causing Teresa to drop the cup she was holding. The cup fell to the floor, and shattered.

"Charlie-" Teresa began, in response. She stopped, though, at the look on Charlie's face.

Charlie's expression went from startled at the shattered cup, to mutinous.

"You don't have to act as though I did it on purpose," Charlie said.

"I didn't mean it that way," Teresa said.

"Of course you didn't," Murdoch interceded smoothly. "It's no one's fault. It's a small matter, just a broken cup, is all." He stepped

over to retrieve the broom that leaned against the kitchen wall.

"I don't see why you all think that it's best that Burl lives in a jail cell!" Charlie said, in a burst of feeling.

Murdoch and Teresa paused in the sweeping up of the glass, and all four of the adults in the room focused

their attention on Charlie.

"Nobody said that," Scott told her, his tone a warning.

"Johnny did! He said it was best, and you all agreed with him," Charlie persisted. "I don't see how you all can think that!"

"Hey-" Johnny began, in protest.

"Alright, Charlie, that's enough," Scott said, sternly.

Charlie subsided, but still looked mutinous.

"Scott-" Johnny said, holding up a hand. "I've got this." He wiped his fingers on his pants, and then half-stood, to reach

out and grasp Charlie's hand. Enough to pull her over to him, as he sat back down on his chair.

"I said it was for the best, pequeno," Johnny said, holding her in place so she had to look into his eyes. "I meant for tonight

it's best. And tomorrow, and maybe the whole next week, too. I wasn't sayin' that I think it's the best for Burl-permanently."

"Of course not," Murdoch said. "Things will need to be arranged differently at some point." He gave Charlie a long

hard look. "Val is trying to help in this situation, Charlie."

"Yeah. He's not the bad guy here, pequeno," Johnny added.

"I know," Charlie said, feeling miserable.

"Have you thought about what might happen, if Burl was left on his own?" Murdoch asked Charlie. "He might really hurt

someone, and then Val would be put in the position of actually having to arrest him. If Burl committed a serious crime, it

might be taken out of Val's hands, and Burl could be brought before a judge and sentenced to prison. I know you don't want

that to happen."

Charlie shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

"It's just-" she began, and then hesitated.

"Just what?" Johnny prompted.

Charlie bit at her lower lip, and then shook her head again. "I'm sorry for being mean about it to you, Johnny."

"Make me some biscuits, and we'll call it even," Johnny said.

Charlie wrapped her arms around his neck. "I will!"

"Time for bed, Charlie," Scott said, from behind her.

Charlie stood up, and went to Murdoch. "I'm sorry for acting that way."

Murdoch gave her a hug. "You have some rest. You'll feel better."

Charlie paused beside Teresa. "Teresa-" she began.

"It's alright," the dark haired girl told her. "We're both tired. That's all."

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Scott paused at the bottom of the stairs, as Charlie began her way up.

"I'll be up in a few minutes," he told her.

"Okay," Charlie said, sighing a bit. She went up the stairs, and went to wash, and get into her nightgown.

When Scott did come, Charlie was sitting on her bed, with her legs tucked up underneath, her hands folded together.

He paused in the doorway, for just a moment, looking at her, and then he turned to close the door.

Usually, he left the door half-way open, when he came up to read with her at bedtime.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked, tremulously.

"No. You're not in trouble," he said, and came to sit on the edge of the bed. "I do want to have a talk with you, though."

Charlie watched him, worriedly. A talk, put just that way, sounded like trouble to her.

"You have a good heart, Charlie," Scott began, and Charlie thought for a moment that it might be alright after all.

"When you met Burl, you saw him as a person who needed some help. And, you were correct about that. Now, though,

he has some others to help him, besides you. All of us, and Val, and the doctor. Right?" Scott said.

Charlie nodded, still not sure what point Scott was striving to make yet.

"I think," Scott said, slowly, "That it's become a good bit bigger than what it seemed to be at the beginning, though. Burl

needs a lot of care, Charlie. Considerably more than what was obvious when we first met him."

Charlie felt a knot tightening in her stomach. Both Scott's words, and the expression on his face seemed foreboding.

"It's not Burl's fault, though, Scott," Charlie protested.

"I know that," Scott acknowledged. "I'm not saying that it is. What I am saying, is what I see happening with you. You spend

too much of your time worrying about him, thinking about what to do for him, and then getting upset when things don't happen

with him the way that you think they should happen."

"I apologized to everyone downstairs," Charlie said, in defense, but her voice was quiet.

"I know you did, and I'm glad about it. That's not quite what I'm getting at, though," he said. He sighed, and then took

her wrist and gave her a small tug. "Come over here and sit next to me."

Charlie let him pull her up, and over, until she was sitting next to his side.

"Why haven't you asked to have Rebecca over for the day, like we discussed once before? Or asked to go fishing with

your friends after school?" he asked. He gave her an intent look, and continued, "Probably because all that you think about

is Burl, and whether or not Val, or Teresa, or any of us, are doing things the way that you think is best."

And, though he had his arm around her waist, and was speaking kindly, Charlie felt like squirming under

his intenseness.

"I want you to try concentrating on some other things. Will you do that?" Scott asked.

"Like fishing?" Charlie asked.

"Fishing. Your handwriting. Your chores. Your reading. Your piano. All of those," he said, quietly.

Charlie suddenly felt like crying. "Can I still visit him, though?" she asked, pleadingly.

"Of course you can. Just-not every day, like you have been. As long as he's at Val's. If he's not there, then I doubt

if you can visit. At least not without one of us with you."

"You mean, like only visit him on a schedule or something like that?" Charlie asked.

"Let's say, since you saw him today, then you can go by the jail and visit him-" Scott paused, thinking.

"On Tuesday. For thirty minutes or so. Then, after Tuesday, maybe later on in the week, or on Saturday. Just make sure you talk to

me about it first, so nobody's worrying about where you are."

Charlie looked away from him, and down at her hands, picking at her fingernails. She felt frustrated, and misunderstood.

"Do we have a deal?" Scott asked.

"If I stop trying to meddle in the adult part of it, then could I not be on a schedule for visiting?" Charlie asked, sweeping her

huge brown eyes up to his face.

Scott sighed. "Have you not understood anything that I've been saying?"

"I understand," Charlie said.

Scott's expression changed at that point, from patient to set. Intractable. "You just don't agree with any of it, is that it?" he asked.

Before Charlie could respond, Scott said, "If I sounded as though I was making suggestions, Charlie, then that was wrong

of me. I'm not suggesting. These are the new rules in this situation. You're to mind what I've told you."

Her brown eyes met his gray-green ones. It was a stand-off, so to speak. Charlie let her gaze flicker away from his, and

sighed.

"Okay," she said, reluctantly.

"Alright. What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?" he asked, then.

Charlie suddenly found that she did not want to talk about the asylums, or what Lucy had said, or why Scott had called them

sanitariums, or any of that. Included in the topics she no longer wanted to discuss was her set-to with Lucy.

Charlie shrugged, and picked at her fingernails again. "It's not anything too much," she said vaguely.

"It seemed as though it was something earlier today," Scott reminded her, and Charlie could tell that he wasn't fooled or

put off by her comment.

Realizing that he was not going to just let her off the hook, Charlie turned slightly to face him.

"You said that Burl might have to go to a sanitarium," Charlie began, and then paused.

"Yes. I said that." He waited.

"Is a sanitarium like an asylum?" Charlie asked, and there was a bit of a challenge in her tone.

"There's some similar things," Scott said.

"Like rats?" Charlie asked, tilting her chin.

Scott was surprised by her challenging tone, and he didn't miss the flash in her eyes.

"What are you getting at, Charlie?" he asked, deciding to cut to the chase.

"Lucy said her mother said that Burl should go to an asylum," Charlie burst out. "And that there are rats there, and

that they tie people to chairs, and-treat them really badly! And she said people go in those places and never come out!"

Scott ran his fingers over his forehead, and then he took her hands, tugging her down, and standing her in front of him, still holding

her hands.

"Lucy's mother is correct about some of those things. Some of the ways the treatments are done, can seem very cruel. I don't know

for positive about the rats, but I would imagine that can be true, too. As far as going in and never getting well enough to come out,

that's not definite. Sometimes people respond to the treatments, and can live more normal lives. Asylums and sanitariums are

different in the aspect of-" Scott hesitated. "Asylums are mostly for very poor people. Those that have no family, or any money

resources."

Charlie laid her hands on Scott's upper arm, feeling more hopeful. "But sanitariums aren't like that?" she asked, brightening

somewhat.

"Well, they're not places of great comfort, or beauty, but-" he hesitated. "They're some better than asylums, I think."

"And Burl could go to one of those?" Charlie continued. "Because he has money from what Teresa sold for him! And there's

other things in the trunks that could be sold, too, to help pay for his stay at the sanitarium!"

"I don't know if he needs to go for certain," Scott clarified. "That would be something that the doctor will decide. But, if he

does need to go, then, yes, he should have some funds to provide for better care."

"That's good!" Charlie said, smiling and hugging Scott around his neck. She felt better than she had since that morning. "That's really good,

Scott!"

Scott patted her back, and eased her up to look into her face, stunned at her back-and-forth emotions.

"So this is what the squabble with Lucy was about?" Scott clarified. "The fact that her mother said Burl should go to

an asylum?"

Charlie's smile faded. "Mostly."

"Just mostly," Scott said, dryly. "So, what else, then?"

"She shouldn't be saying that," Charlie maintained.

"It's her opinion, Charlie. Just because you don't agree with it, doesn't mean that it's not allowed. You can hear differing

views about things, and not fly off the handle about it. Especially concerning an adult's view."

His tone was in scold mode again, and Charlie sighed. She suddenly felt very tired.

"Yes, Scott," she said.

"So, what else?" he asked, again.

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